


keldabe kiss

by PersephoneHemingway



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alt 1: Punctured / Day 10: Blood Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Keldabe Kiss, M/M, Mandalorian, Not Canon Compliant, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Secrets, Whumptober 2020, very light whump, written before watching Chapter 11: The Heiress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneHemingway/pseuds/PersephoneHemingway
Summary: you're injured, and you can't hide anymore
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Kudos: 107





	keldabe kiss

You’ve been running together with the Mandalorian for a while now, and you’d finally reached the milestone of a mission-gone-unconscious in which he had to pull you out bleeding.

That’s how he found out.

See, you still wore it underneath the rest— your beskar.

It was practical, and no other material could really compare— maybe you couldn’t wear it openly anymore, but you weren’t going to compromise your survival by giving it up.

So you had your brown leather jacket and loose tan fatigues up top, and full plate beskar below.

_No wonder no one ever seemed to hit you. If they did, it bounced right off._

But this was different. This was a knife wound, slid straight though an opening in your side after it’d glanced off your chest plate. The guy was lucky on his follow-through— underneath the armor, you were as easy to kill as anyone else.

Breaking the cardinal rule of knife wounds— _do not remove the knife_ — you’d ripped it from your flesh, swung out in a wide arc, and sliced the throat of your attacker before dropping it with clammy hands.

You staggered back trying to press your hand into the wound to staunch the bleeding, but it was hard to put pressure on your flesh with your armor in the way. You were able to ‘trick’ the Mandalorian into thinking you were fine (as if he didn’t already notice the blood dripping from your waist, or how pale you’d gotten), up until the point where you collapsed.

&  


You blinked back into the world groggy on the Razor Crest. You rubbed at your eyes as the Mandalorian spoke to you behind him from the pilot's seat.  


"Mind telling me why you have beskar armor?"  


It's incredible how quickly an exposed secret can wake you up.  


"Wha- What?"  


"You hide it. Your beskar. Why?"  


There was no use in pretending anymore, not with him.  


"I- I'm underestimated. No one expects it of me. They can't hit me. They think they can."  


He remained silent. He knew that wasn't all. He waited.  


"I mean you've already figured it out..." But he was gonna make you say it. "...I'm- I was a Mandalorian. I thought I was safe. Turns out I wasn't." You sighed. "But you know I couldn't put it back on after that." You chewed at your thumbnail. "So yeah, that's me..."

He watched your nervous ticks and dragged his eyes across where he’d patched you up.  


"Do you still..?"  


"Have it? Yeah."

You pointed toward the storage door where you kept what he knew as the duffel bag of oddities you usually used for heists and switcharoos. The Mandalorian hauled it out of the tight space and over the cabinet’s opening ledge, turning back to where you were making _toss it here_ motions with both hands.

You could almost _see_ his disapproval— your heavily-bandaged torso shining back at you in the mirror of his visor. He walked the bag over and plunked it down beside you. You decided against moving the duffel into your lap when your first attempt at lifting it strained your wound. Instead, you tugged it closer into your side, undid the buckles and zipper, and started to dig around.

You pulled the helmet out from the bottom of your bag, wrapped in something unassuming and once-soft.

You unwrapped it. You stared.

The Mandalorian nudged the duffel out of the way with his boot so he could crouch down next to you in its place.

You put your hand inside and lifted the helmet up to face the Mandalorian’s. You tipped it forward so it tapped against his helmet gently before pulling it back to hug close to your chest. You gave it a full-body squeeze before setting it down and sliding it away on the other side of you.  


You lifted your hand to the cheek of the Mandalorian’s helmet and leaned your head in. You rested your forehead on his and looked into the black of his visor as if you really could see his eyes. You blinked slowly, and he brought his hand to cradle your jaw.  


You stayed.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was brought to you by:  
> a. me learning that a keldabe kiss is a "gentle mandalorian headbutt" of affection. i die squealing every time i think about it  
> b. whumptober; for helping me figure out how reader would be injured, and for the motivation to get this lil' fic finished by the end of the event month


End file.
